


Kurt and De Sardet: Filling in the blanks

by Anonymouscosmos



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymouscosmos/pseuds/Anonymouscosmos
Summary: A short but sweet little tale of Kurt and De Sardet's falling in love.
Relationships: Kurt/De Sardet (GreedFall)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The romances in Greedfall are, as you may know, are very underdeveloped. Maybe Mass Effect spoiled me. Maybe I'm just needy. But I fell hard for Kurt, and I found myself wishing there was more. His story was so good, so deep, so painful and detailed - and then the romance with him pales in comparison. I wanted that richness in story I felt I was promised.
> 
> This is a short little work, meant to add some sweetness and romance into the dynamic between my De Sardet and Kurt.

**1**

Erysé De Sardet pulled her knees closer to her chest, and gazed across the campfire. Her dark hair, freed from it’s usual tight braid, cascaded around her face - the view through it neatly framing the figure across from her. On the other side of the flames, Kurt sat against a fallen tree - his shoulders forward, eyes downcast. He stared into the flames but his eyes were unseeing - lost as he was in darker memories. The firelight danced in their blue depths - casting an eerie flicker of light on them. 

"Kurt," Erysé said softly, breaking his reverie. "Are you alright? I know this must have been hard for you."

His eyes came up to meet hers, and she felt a twist of warmth in her gut at the contact.

"No... I can't say that I am," his reply came at last. His voice was husky, lined with pain. Over the last few weeks they had uncovered an insidious plot involving the Coin Guard - Kurt's nearest thing to family - and along the way had uncovered some truly devastating secrets Kurt had long held close to his chest. Among them, the revelations of Captain Hammond and his involvement. Erysé felt her blood boil at the thought of that monster. He had not only seen many men killed and lives wasted, but had done even worse things to many of his recruits. Among them, Kurt. Erysé had stood next to Kurt in Punishment Square, the center of San Matheus, and watched with him as his old tormenter met his fiery end. Near the end, when the screams had finally stopped and the figure on the pyre had slumped in silence, Kurt had bowed his head and closed his eyes - the frown lines creasing his brow at last relaxing.

Erysé flicked her eyes to Síora - who was deeply asleep, hands tucked under a cheek as her eyelids fluttered in a dream. Quietly, Erysé stood and crossed over to Kurt, settling down next to him and leaning against the fallen tree at their backs. They sat in quiet for a while, the fire popping and snapping, sparks lifting into the fathomless starry sky of Teer Fradee. 

When he spoke again, she started, lost in her own reverie. "Thank you for coming with me. As far away as we are from home, from Serene - I don't miss it. Not like I thought I would. It's like I brought home with me, having you here." 

He threw another piece of wood on the fire, light dancing on the outline of his face, before lapsing into silence again. They sat like that for a long while, both in their own thoughts. She took in the days old scruff on his jaw, the firm set of his frown lines, the way his eyes were both warm and cold. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and hoped he could not see it. As long as she could remember, as long as he had been in her life, she had yearned for him. First, as a young girl with a crush on a soldier. Then, as the years passed, as a woman longing to kiss away those lines at the corners of his mouth. She longed to run her fingers along that jaw, to savor the sensation of the stubble against the pads of her fingers. Somewhere in old Serene, there was a tree that had ‘E + K’ carved into it by 12 year old hands. She smiled a little at that memory. 

Of course he had no idea. No doubt he saw her as more akin to a kid sister than a potential mate, being ten years her senior. How many times had he bent to ruffle her hair after she'd lost yet another sparring match with him? And she, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, queen of the silver tongue herself, was utterly speechless in the face of her own affections. Fearless in all things but this. _Coward_ , a little voice whispered in her heart.

"I've never told anyone these things," he continued. "I've tried to leave the past behind me. I never thought I'd be facing this nightmare again. I thought it was over. I thought if I kept my distance, stayed posted far enough away… Then Reiner was killed. And we found out about the ghost camp. I just... It all came back to me again. Like it was yesterday." He ran a large, calloused hand through his short cropped hair. It shone in the dark like a bird's wing. “It’s like I’m some green recruit again, with this dark shadow hanging over me every waking moment.”

Erysé reached up, almost unaware of the instinctive gesture, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stopped talking, and turned his head to look at her. Erysé felt her mouth go dry when his eyes met hers. She realized this was the first time she had ever touched him, other than while in the sparring ring. There were no gauntlets as a barrier this time. She could feel the heat of his body through his thin linen tunic. His eyes, pale like the moon overhead, regarded her somberly. 

"I'm sorry, Kurt," she murmured, willing herself to keep still. She felt tremulous and fragile. "I'd kill them all a dozen more times each if I could, each time worse than the last." 

His grim mouth finally slowly spread into a small smile. "Aye, I bet you would, Greenblood." The childhood affectation was spoken like a warm caress. He patted her hand on his shoulder, almost absently, and turned back to the fire. Could he know that his bare fingers against hers sent a lightning bolt zig-zagging through her body? She laughed, and to her ears it sounded high and nervous. She brought her hand back to her lap, grateful for the relative darkness disguising her flaming ears. She stood up, pins and needles in her legs worrying her for a moment that they would betray her. 

"I’m going to stretch my legs," she said, shaking a leg to illustrate her point. He regarded her silently and nodded, his eyes watching her as she turned to walk out of camp.

She followed the small brook near camp for a little while, before stopping in a glade they had passed through earlier. The night was quiet. No beasts stirred, and the wind was only a slight breeze that swayed the tree branches overhead. Finally alone, she let out a long sigh and leaned her forehead against a tall oak. _"Idiot,"_ she grated, to herself and the night. _"Why are you such a little fool? You can negotiate peace treaties with leaders of nations, but can’t look one man in the eyes and say what you feel??"_ She hit the tree with the side of a closed fist, then guiltily muttered an apology to it. Being in Teer Fradee, learning of her mother and her bond - had awoken in her an awareness of all living things. She did her best to respect the world she came from, though knew so little about.

She closed her eyes and took in the sounds and smells of Teer Fradee - the bark of the oak under her skin, it’s aroma damp and nutty. The brook burbling happily over smooth river stones. The rustle of grass, undulating in the wind. An animal lowing somewhere far off. _A twig snapping_. With lightning quickness, she had her sword out and whirled, the point stopping an inch away from the intruder’s throat - and she saw Kurt's grin flash in the moonlight.

"Kurt!" Erysé gasped, surprise and adrenaline still leaving her half caught off guard. He chuckled, and with an index finger, he reached up and gingerly moved the blade away from his neck. 

"Careful, Greenblood. I might need a shave, but I can do it on my own, I assure you."

"What on the hell are you doing, scaring me like that? I could have hurt you!" Erysé snapped, completely out of sorts. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I might have trained you, Greenblood, but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve yet," he was still grinning. “If I hadn’t snapped that twig for you, you’d be on your ass right now.” She should never had let him get a rise out of her. He'd be crowing the victory for weeks. No doubt he'd love to tell all the natives about their beloved _on ol menawi_ being a jumpy little bird.

Erysé busied herself with sheathing her sword, hoping he wouldn't notice her shaking as the adrenaline slowly subsided. He could laugh at her all he wanted, but there were plenty of things in Teer Fradee that would be happy to chomp on a renaigsé. A huge hand covered hers, stopping it on the seated hilt.

"Always joking," she muttered, trying to brush it off, the flighty beating of her heart threatening to make her dizzy. 

"Erysé." The tone in his voice made her eyes come up. She thought she could probably count on one hand the number of times Kurt had ever uttered her actual name, instead of 'Greenblood' or some other joking taunt. 

He was standing close. He had clearly followed her as soon as she left, for he was without his armor. Another rare sight. He had the uncanny ability to stay awake long past her and still wake before her when they camped, looking refreshed and ready to go while she staggered around blindly looking for coffee. Granted, there were unconfirmed rumors the legate slept like the dead... and, allegedly, according to a snickering Siora, _maybe_ drooled a little. Tonight, he wore simple leather breeches, boots, and a long white tunic with the sleeves rolled up. His sword hung in its scabbard from a belt at his waist, and a dagger was strapped to his thigh. His body was both lean and powerful. His arms where thick from years of training and being on the battlefield. Despite the scars across his face, he was a handsome man indeed. She flushed yet again. Erysé wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

She didn't answer but for a small gruff noise from the back of her throat. His hand was still over hers, warm and strong, imprisoning her fingers. He was close to her. Very close. She could smell the salt on his skin and the sweet scent of cloves from his armor oil.

"I'm just here to watch your back," he said, his voice low. "I swore I always would." 

She took a steadying breath."Kurt, I - I want-" she was stumbling and clumsy. The words would not come. An infuriating irony, considering her position as legate. 

His other hand came up and cradled her cheek. Erysé's heart threatened to beat right through her ribcage. _This wasn't happening. This couldn't be real. He was touching her face._

"I know," he interrupted, his voice sounding puzzled. "But I don't know _why_. Why me? What interest could you possibly have in this old soldier?" She felt herself leaning into the hand on her cheek. It felt so good to have his skin against hers. She could lose herself in that small concession.

"You're not old, you idiot," she said at last, with none of the edge of jest. The words were soft, as intended. "I always wanted ... More. But I didn't know what to say. I might be a legate, but I am not good with these.. matters." She shrugged, helplessly, knowing this was it. He would see with a disaster she was and back away. The thought of that hand leaving her face was sheer agony.

His eyes searched hers, fingers stroking her cheek softly. She felt her lower lip quiver involuntary. Her chest ached. It was not big enough to hold everything she felt in that moment.

He traced the line of her lower lip with his thumb, his eyes following its path. The sensation was exquisite, and she closed her eyes to steady herself. They flew open again for a moment when he kissed her. The man she had always seen as hard and unyielding, a servant to duty and honor - had the softest, gentlest, sweetest touch she had ever felt. Her eyes closed and she melted into him. One arm wrapped around her while the other still held her face, the fingertips nestled into her dark tresses.

She remembered once, as a child, being outside in a thunderstorm. The sky lit up repeatedly with jagged flashes. The ozone was heavy in the air. She remembered feeling every nerve ending in her body tingling - alive with the lights in the sky. 

That was the closest thing she could compare this feeling to. Everything within her was alight. She felt herself tremor, and she didn't know if it was weakness or fatigue or the overwhelming nature of all her hopes realized in that kiss - but she let herself lean into him, let him hold her up, let herself drown in that moment.

She pulled back after a time, her breath coming in little flustered gasps. She realized she was holding tight fistfuls of his tunic. His hand on her lower back both held her up and pressed her to him.

"I've loved you for so long," she whispered. She didn't know why, but with those words, a tear rolled down her cheek. "The last few weeks... Seeing you in such pain.. I hurt for you so badly. I'd move the heavens and Earth for you if I could." He wiped her tear away with his rough thumb, the sensation of the tender gesture only brought forth another. And another. She was crying and she couldn't stop. He kissed one cheek, his lips coming away wet, and then the other. Then kissed her again on the lips - the saltiness of her tears on the tips of both their tongues now.

"I know, little one," he answered. "It's why I love you, too."

They stood there, embracing, in the center of the little glade. The moon high overhead bathed them in its silvery light.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

  
  


Erysé was tired. Dusty and road-sore and so damn _tired_. For days she had been traveling all over the island, working to gather support and allies. She ate little and slept even less. When she slept, dreams came unbidden - visions of death. Of the Malichor taking everyone, consuming Teer Fradee. She knew Constantin must be stopped or everyone would suffer terribly. She thought of the last time she had seen him - his eyes alight with an unsettling _wildness_. His deathly pallor was veined through with the marks of his unnatural and twisted bond. He had clearly not been himself for some time. The Constantin she had known and loved her whole life was gone. There was a ever-present ache beneath her ribs at the thought, a burden she was not entirely sure she could bear.

She had managed to sneak off alone at last - no easy task, given the vigilance of her companions - and sat in the loft of the abandoned barn near camp. The rebel natives - the doneia esgregaw - had long since driven away the residents of this farm, and it stood empty and hollow. Not entirely unlike how she felt now... _Hollow_. Her intuition was rarely wrong, and she knew this was likely the end for Constantin. If she even survived it herself. As twisted as he had become, he still loved her. She knew that. It made the decision all the more painful. Could she kill him, if the time came? Was she capable of such a thing?

She had cried all the tears her exhausted body could handle, alone in the loft. As soon as she had ascended to the top, she let herself crumple into a pile of straw, pulled her arms tight about her, and let it all _go_. She was sure she looked a mess, cheeks tear-streaked and half drowned by grief - her dark eyes red rimmed and puffy. Constantin was all she had left. Mother was gone. Well, both her mothers, now. It was hard to think of a woman she had never met as her mother, though she bore her mother’s mark. It was only when she was alone that she could let it all catch up with her. Even when she had revealed to him the nature of her origins, that her true mother was from Teer Fradee, Constantin had accepted her and loved her no less for it. _She would always be his fair cousin_ , he'd said. Despite her exhaustion, she felt her eyes tear up again at the thought.

"Mind if I come up?" A voice called from below, yanking her out of her thoughts. She didn't have to look over the edge to see who it was. It was Kurt. The voice rang through her to her very bones. With everything happening, they hadn't had time alone since the glade. No one could ever accuse a legate of being idle these days. She realized she was touching her lips with her fingertips, somewhat overcome by the memory of the glade. He had _kissed_ her. He had told her he felt as she did. _He had kissed her._ After all this time, she had finally spoke her truth - and it had surprised her to find he shared that truth.

"I knew one of you would track me down," she laughed, as he climbed up the rather rickety ladder. It was amazing it held his bulk without clattering down in pieces.

"It is my duty," he huffed, as he finished his climb. He took a mocking bow before her, before dropping unceremoniously to the floor.

He looked as tired as she was. His hair was unkempt from being in a helmet all day. His tunic was damp with sweat. She tossed him an apple from her pack. She hadn't felt like eating all day, but he immediately took a big bite and chewed thoughtfully.

"I imagine you are up here quietly blaming yourself for Constantin," Kurt said after a moment. 

"Is it that obvious?" She asked, smiling wryly.  He propped himself up on one arm and regarded her.

"You had no way of knowing what he and Catasach were going to do, or how it would change him. Obviously even Catasach did not expect that from him. I know that boy as well as you do, and I couldn't have handled it any differently than you." 

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"I still don't understand why Dr Asili had him poisoned when he arrived on the island. I never found out why, never made sense of it. And with the doctor gone to the headsman's axe, we will never have our answers. All of this could have been avoided if I had just been more... Vigilant. Less blind." She clenched her fists.

He shook his head sadly. "You don't think I've had the same thoughts? I was supposed to guard you _both_. I swore to keep you safe. At least _you_ are safe. Somewhat. As much as you can be. Though you keep sneaking off." He punctuated this last sentence with throwing a piece of straw at her.

She narrowed her eyes and flicked a piece back at him. It sailed true, the golden stalk bouncing off his forehead. His gaze darkened with menace and he flung a handful of the stuff at her. She deflected half of the falling pieces back at him. The spell of despair was broken, and Erysé laughed and grabbed a large handful of straw to throw at him. He was too fast, and ducked behind a half wall. She came around the corner, but too slow. Like he had done a thousand times before in the training yard, he caught her off guard and swept her legs out from under her. She dropped like a tree, arms flailing inelegantly. He was on her in a flash, grinning, straw sticking out of his hair like feathers. She laughed and twisted, but he held her firmly. He straddled her thighs, pinning her wrists down, and his face hovered inches from her own. He was laughing, chest heaving with mirth, mischief dancing in his eyes. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him like this. Actually, no, she was positive - she had _never_ seen him like this in all the years she’d known him. He looked... _happy._

Memories of his mouth on hers in the glade resurfaced in her mind, and her breathless laughter gave way to staring up at him, a ridiculous smile on her lips. She loved seeing him like this. A hint of playful boyishness in a man made of - and clad in - iron.

"I can still take you, Greenblood," he smirked. She was suddenly very aware of how alone they were and how warm his body felt against hers. Judging from the heated look in his eyes, he was, too.

He released a wrist, reaching up to gently touch her lips. They parted under the soft pressure, and she nipped at his fingertips. He chuckled softly and leaned down, kissing her. She went limp at it, her body melting. Then he kissed the hollow of her throat, and she felt a sensation as though downy feathers were dusting across her skin, head to toe. She giggled and arched under him, trying to get away from the sensation without truly trying to.

His free hand slid down along the side of her body, caressing her ribcage, pausing at the place her waist dipped into an hourglass, before moving to her hip and squeezing there - caressing the round of it. Then back up, gliding over her taut stomach and stopping over her heart. He placed his hand there. She wondered if he could feel it's absolutely frantic rhythm beneath his hand. He was going to drive her mad, touching her like this. Her breathing was shaky as she lay there like a small rabbit waiting for the fox to pounce. She'd had a dalliance or two, in her youth - sweet but clumsy young men who earnestly cared. She'd not been able to feel anything for them. Her eyes had been on the training yard, and the bear of a man who held her heart captive.

And now he was here, touching her, his hand over the very heart that was his to take. She brought her hand up to cover the one on her chest. Fingers intertwined. Every touch from him was like dying a little. She was falling into an abyss of need. He was all she wanted. 

He sat back up and pulled his tunic over his head. Muscles, hard and lean, overlaid with dozens of scars, rippled in the sun streaming in through the loft window. How many broken ribs, she wondered, gazing at him in both sadness and awe. How many wounds had been mended? And worse, how many were from people he had trusted or served?

He saw her look, and misunderstood her expression. She saw a shadow pass over his eyes.

"I know I'm not much to look at," he said, gesturing. For all his years and experience, he looked a bit dejected. She shook herself out of her reverie.

"Kurt, oh, Kurt. _No._ You're perfect. Absolutely perfect." She wiggled out from under him, getting to her knees so they were on the same level. Shyly, she pulled her own tunic over her head. The months on Teer Fradee had changed her, too. She had lost much of the cushion of court life. She was leaner and had more muscle than she'd ever had, though there was some softness to her that remained. While she was nowhere near as scarred as Kurt, she had her own collection going - some were older, healed to light pink. Some were still healing, angry red or purple. The last brush with a _nadaig magamen_ had left her with a massive flowering bruise over her ribs - her armor had saved her from the tip of creature's spear, but not from the force behind it.

Kurt's face softened as he took it all in. "You always were my toughest protege," he said, pride inflected in his voice. His eyes drank her in, hungry now. He leaned into her, pulled her tight against him, squeezing her so hard for a moment it grew difficult to breathe. He buried his face into her neck, and she felt his lips and the tip of his tongue as he kissed her there, tasting her skin and sucking here and there gently. She thought she'd lose consciousness in that moment.

His hands slid down her back, over her hips, feeling every dip and rise of her body. She didn't care what he did as long as he didn't stop touching her. She was squeezing him, holding on to him during the overwhelming exploration. Finally, gently, he laid her back onto the hay. He came down to her, laying full length against her, though propping himself up on an arm so as not to crush her. Everything he did was so gentle, so tender. He handled her like she was a little wildflower in his palm. He kissed her again, hard and with passion to match her own.

“You are a very rare and special woman,” he murmured into her ear, before nibbling on an earlobe. She was gasping for air. His hand stole down to the lacing of her breeches, undoing them while continuing to kiss her in a maddening trail of little butterflies until they were off. 

Then he reached down to touch her, and she gasped and moaned as he applied pressure. When she thought she couldn't handle another second of torture, he shifted, moving between her legs. As he slowly slid into her, he kissed her, deeply and passionately. Her little scream of relief was lost in the pressing of his lips to hers. 

Her legs wrapped around him like tree roots over sanctuary doors, clinging tight and desperate. He moved within her and she had to clasp a hand over her mouth at times to prevent herself from making too much noise. She'd never be able to face Síora again if she overheard.

One hand clenched her hip tightly, the other elevating him, as he drove her to climax once, and then again, the second time he went over the edge with her. She felt him expand within her, felt the pulse of him, in the midst of her shivering release - and it only made it all the more incredible.

Her hands were still squeezing him hard. Too hard. She loosened them apologetically, flexing the sensation back into her fingers. He lay against her, finally giving up and letting his weight rest on her. She liked the pressure of him against her. Liked his hot, damp skin and the smell of him. His head lay on her chest, a hand on one of her breasts. Their breathing slowed together as they recovered. 

She stroked his short hair, gently picking out the few pieces of straw still in it. She felt him smile against her, and she smiled too. They would be missed, soon, but not just yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

She was still lying where she'd fallen when Kurt made it to her. Beside her, Constantin’s lifeless eyes stared up at the sky. Unseeing. Empty. She had retched, but her stomach was empty and nothing would come up. Cradling what could only be at least two broken ribs, she lay there next to her beloved cousin and let out an anguished wail. The cavern was now silent, the great _on el mas frichtaman_ restored to his magnificence. But even he was quiet as she grieved. Her gauntlet was soaked in Constantin’s blood, but she was too tired and hurt to get it off on her own.

She felt hands pulling off her helmet, patting her face, begging her to look, to see. See what? Constantin saw nothing anymore. Why should she?

The voice was insistent, breaking through the walls of her mind. At long last, she focused - her dark eyes finding the source. It was Kurt. _Kurt, my love,_ she breathed, unable to get the words out. Every bone in her body ached, her very spirit ached. She was heartsick. Some of the blood on the ground was not only Constantin’s. The corrupted Guardian had nearly killed her, but she had held her ground until Constantin called it off, fearing as much. She winced. There was a shard of rock embedded deeply in her shoulder, having made its way between the plates and through the mail. She had been so focused on the combat she had not even noticed when it happened. She noticed now, as Kurt’s hands, experienced in patching up field injuries, tended to it. She groaned and gasped as the world came into focus around her again - pain brought with it clarity.

There was something in her eyes she had never seen: worry. True worry. His brow was furrowed, the corners of his mouth turned in a concerned frown. Typical for Kurt. But the look in his eyes was new. He wasn’t even looking at her face now. He was inspecting her wound, checking her for any others, his silvery blue eyes troubled and almost panicked. She licked her lips. They were dry, a fine dust of volcanic ash on them.

“Kurt,” she finally managed to whisper. Her throat was sore, the word coming out jagged and inelegant.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he growled, working off her gauntlets. She groaned in pain, the stone shard’s presence becoming all too evident as the shock wore off and her senses returned. She felt as if all the blood had drained from her face. He turned his attention to her face for a moment, a hand slick with blood briefly touching her cheek. “I’m sorry, little one,” he said, regret flashing over his face. “I’ve got to get this shard out, and you’re not going to like it one bit. We can’t move you like this.” She closed her eyes and nodded, ashen. She felt a hand pressing near the wound, and another firmly gripping the shard. She lost consciousness as he pulled it free .

-  
  


A silhouette was framed by glowing lights, leaning over Erysé as she opened her eyes. She could hear rhythmic chanting and something being ground in an herb bowl. Gingerly, she lifted her head a little - her lips and her throat were _so dry_. She winced at a stabbing pain in her shoulder, her head, her ribs.

“Hold still, _on ol menawi,”_ she heard a voice say. She recognized that voice. It was Mev - the tierna harh cadachtas. She leaned closer and her painted face came into the light. “You are still healing. It would not be wise to move just yet.” Erysé let her head drop back down, but her eyes roamed around the lodge. In a corner, slumped on the floor against the wall, Kurt slept. He was still in full armor, though he had evicted his helm and gauntlets. There was blood all over him. She nearly sat up again with a gasp, but one of Mev’s hands stopped her.

“He’s hurt! Someone needs to see to him!” Erysé said urgently, struggling against the pressure.

“No, _carants_ ,” Mev murmured, gently pushing her back down. “That is not his blood. It is yours.” Erysé let her body relax back onto the table.

“Mine? What happened?”

Mev gestured at Kurt’s sleeping form. “You were badly hurt, but he was able to stop some of the bleeding. He carried you all the way back down the mountain to us. He would not let us help. If he had not gotten you here when he did, you would not be with us now.” She shook her head, amused. “He is as strong as he is stubborn, this _minundhanem_ of yours.” Erysé blinked. _Minundhanem_ . The islander word meaning ‘soul companion.’ She looked to Kurt again. He looked so troubled, even in his sleep. Mev answered her question before it was asked. “Yes. He has been here ever since they brought you to us. He has refused to leave and has been… _helpful._ ” She said this last bit somewhat reproachfully, and Erysé had a feeling Kurt had made himself a stubborn nuisance. 

Warmth flooded Erysé’s body as she gazed at the sleeping man, and smiled quietly to herself. He had carried her down the mountain, had he? Almost as if sensing her eyes on him, Kurt jerked awake, body snapping from sleep to the tightly coiled posture of a man at arms. His eyes locked on hers and he bolted upright. In a few swift strides he was at her side. Mev, seeing his determination, sighed and walked to the door. Turning to look over her shoulder at them, she said, “Only a few moments, renaigse. She needs her rest.” and with that, she was gone, leaving them alone.

Kurt took a knee beside the healing table, his face even with hers. He brushed some errant strands from her face with a hand, letting it turn into a caress of her face, her head.

“The next time you decide to scare the daylights out of me,” he said through clenched teeth, “try not to do such a thorough job of it.” Before her lips could form an answer, he was kissing her - but it was utterly without ferocity. It was as soft as a caressing breeze, as though she were made of delicate rice paper. She kissed him back, raising an arm to touch him but yelping as she realized which arm it was. He drew back at that, an eyebrow arched disapprovingly. “You’re going to get me in trouble, and honestly, Mev scares me a hell of a lot more than you,” he chided. 

“I’m sorry I scared you so,” she said softly, subdued. She could see the distress in his eyes, and could only imagine how she’d have felt to find him alone in a pool of blood. He ran a hand through his hair, and that was when she truly saw how haggard he was. He was in dire need of a shave. His normally short cropped hair had grown out recently, and as such stood up in all directions from two days without proper attention. His eyes were red rimmed with stress and exhaustion. With her good arm, she reached up and grazed his jaw with her fingers, letting her hand drop to rest over his heart. He covered it with both of his. His blue eyes never left hers. She felt like the only living being in the world when he looked at her like that. 

“I’ve got something I want to say to you,” he said finally, “Before you run off and endanger yourself again or take a tumble down a mountain.” She opened her mouth to defend herself and he hushed her with a finger. “No, let me say it.” she waited, an eyebrow quirked at him. 

“I know we have a long road ahead of us here,” he said. “And before you decide what you want to do about staying on this island, or where this road takes us - I need to know what _we_ do now. You and I.” His eyes were full of emotion, and she felt her heartbeat in her throat looking into them. “Eryse, I will follow you to the ends of the earth and sea. I will protect you and guide you as long as I live, whether that’s a lifetime or only a moment in time. Soldiers don’t tend to have long lifespans.” He smiled a little sadly at that. “I haven’t had much of a choice in things for most of my life, but in this… I choose you. I want to make you my wife. If you’ll have me.”

She nearly launched off the table, trying to wrap him into an embrace. He laughed, she yelped in pain, and Mev came barging back in looking all the world like an angry yorglan.


End file.
